


then I looked back at you

by gratuitously1d



Category: One Direction (Band), X Factor RPF
Genre: Community: 1dangstmeme, M/M, Pining, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-02
Updated: 2012-06-02
Packaged: 2017-11-10 22:12:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/471256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gratuitously1d/pseuds/gratuitously1d
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Louis’ smile is so beautiful that Harry has to look away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	then I looked back at you

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: [](http://accrues.livejournal.com/profile)[**accrues**](http://accrues.livejournal.com/)
> 
> For 1dangstmeme [prompt](http://1dangstmeme.livejournal.com/996.html?thread=28900#t28900): being in love with your best friend sucks...

> _I looked away  
>  then I looked back at you  
>  You tried to say  
>  things that you can’t undo_ – Fall to Pieces, Avril Lavigne

  


Sometimes Louis’ smile is so beautiful that Harry has to look away. It’s just the way he smiles, his whole face lights up like Harry is his whole world and Harry can imagine, can pretend, can forget and it’s everything that he wants. There are so many reasons for why they work, why they could be perfect together, why they should _be_ but if there is one reason, just one, that they might lose what they have – Harry can’t risk it.

There are times when Harry lets himself think that maybe they could have more. They are just…more somehow when they are together, more than twice the sum of their parts, but he can’t let himself think that because then he’ll have to think about the other possibility. The cold, aching possibility that there too might be a conclusion where they are not together, less than half of themselves, an irreparable solution.

It’s simple. What they have is like nothing he’s ever had. Fans and interviewers keep asking him if it’s a bromance, relationship, friendship and he honestly doesn’t know. He resents it a little when they keep needling him. They keep drawing attention to the special things. Harry knows that who Louis is to him isn’t the same as he is for other friends but then again no one is Louis. Each friendship is different. It feels like people want to put limits on what they have to contain it, to squash it or to sell it and Harry just wants to protect it. He doesn’t want there to be limits. They’re still young and they have their whole lives to find out what they want to do. Why can’t people understand that he needs time and space to figure it out too? Money and fame doesn’t give answers. It just means that you have to do shows with your best friend and get asked stupid questions. What do you call someone that you’ve shared a toothbrush with (because Louis accidentally dropped his one down the toilet)? What do you call someone you want to kiss (but you haven’t)? What do you call someone you cook for? What do you call someone who just gets you? There are so many words (bestfriend, boyfriend, lover) but it’s really simple for Harry: it’s _Louis_. He doesn’t need another word.

What little time they can have together, the moments they can squeeze out of the day, these are the best parts. (These are the secrets he keeps to himself and they don’t hurt, they are just the little treasures that he needs not to share. This is just for them.) Today, Louis has the bright idea of finding the rooftop terrace of the expensive hotel they’re currently staying at. This high up and this early in the morning, there are no prying eyes. There’s no need to act, and it’s just them. Two boys still rumpled from sleep wearing wrinkled t-shirts, the crumbs of breakfast still clinging to the front and battered sneakers on their feet. Harry likes dressing up in a smart suit because there is something different about it but he likes it best when they are not being dressed up. There’s something defiant and rebellious now about being able to put clothes on and not think about people looking at you.

There’s fake grass for a putt-putt course and a pool and loveseats. Louis tugs Harry towards the loveseat and then promptly tickles him as he tackles him to the ground. The deck is hard and all the breath feels like it’s been pushed out of his lungs, but the floorbards have been warmed by the sun so Harry goes down easy (hands slipping under his shirt, hands touching his ribs, on his hips, flipping him over). Harry laughs, throwing his head back. It’s loud and they’re probably going to get told off but they deserve this. They’ve been working hard and he is not going to feel guilty about it.

Louis is ruffling Harry’s hair and Harry closes his eyes to the feeling of Louis’ hands on his scalp. “That feels good,” he says, leaning into the touch. He can feel the tendrils of want snaking into him again, covering him like an invisible net. It makes every interaction more significant and every reaction more restrained.

“Of course! How could you doubt me?” Louis says, pretending to sound hurt. “I am a professional!” He lays down dramatically. “You slay me, Styles.”

Harry just shuffles over so he can duck his head into Louis’ chest so he doesn’t have to answer. He doesn’t doubt Louis. He just doesn’t trust himself. And it sucks to think of it, but the more he has seen, he doesn’t trust the world. He will never be ungrateful for his life because the life he has now is far beyond his wildest dreams. It really is. The thing is, he gives all of himself to performing and he wants to make people happy but he knows that he can’t make everyone happy so somewhere out there, there’s always someone that misses out. There’s always someone that’s unhappy and it hurts to think of it. “Don’t think about it”, that’s what people tell him. Don’t look yourself up on Twitter. Don’t Google yourself. These are the things that he knows. Like he knows that there are things you shouldn’t get caught doing (it doesn’t mean you can’t do them, you just have to be sneaky) and it goes against the whole grain of his being. He understands and he doesn’t (maybe he doesn’t want to because this is the real world and how in the world did everything get so complicated?)

He wants to sing, he wants to perform. He wants to be doing something he loves and he gets to do it with the people that he loves. With the person he loves best. No one ever told him that they’d want to know _everything_ about him. Even the things he did not think he was ready to know about him are plastered all over the press – cheap little attention-seeking articles. They ask all sorts of questions and it’s hard not to want to make a joke of it all. Either the questions are the same or they aren’t the right questions. They might ask about the ‘bromance’ or ‘Larry Stylinson’ but they never ask the question that Harry really wants to know the answer to. It’s not about believing in them it’s wanting to and it’s the want that makes him sympathetic to the question even though it’s private (moments that are truly theirs have become so precious, so jealousy guarded). He knows what it’s like to want something to be real, to want proof that it exists, to want to share in one of the happiest moment of someone’s life.

Louis’ heart beat is a steady bass line and his heart is hammering like a drumroll and it’s ridiculous. They aren’t even doing anything and this makes it both better and worse at the same time. It means that at any moment, just with a glance you fall in love – you don’t have to go fly somewhere or go to a fancy restaurant. Just brushing shoulders on the balcony of the hotel. The way their fingers brush when Louis hands him his coffee. The way their eyes meet across the stage. It’s so easy and it’s too easy. He can feel his heart race faster, faster, and he wonders if the moment is nownownow. Any moment now he’ll say what is on his mind (I think I’ve always wanted you, I’m in love with you, I love you so much). Any moment now, he’ll be his (I love you too). And any moment now, he’ll slip away (Harry-). It’s hard to concentrate on what’s he’s saying. He hears his hopes race and fall with each second and he just _wants_. He wonders what it would be like to kiss those lips and the wave of desire crashes into him.

It’d be easier if it were lust. If it were just about wanting Louis’ body. If only the sight of Louis’ arms got him bothered and he only imagined being held against the wall, being held down arms above his head- No, he couldn’t settle for that. He’s greedy when he’s like this. Harry wants the moments before and the moments after that. He wants Louis’ arms around him when he doesn’t care about who might be watching. He wants his hand to the small of his back and Harry doesn’t think about where Louis might be guiding him, he just goes. He wants his body, mind and soul. And there are no words for it.

He says just enough to keep the conversation going but it’s not really necessary and most of the time Harry can just sit in silence and look. Louis doesn’t run out of words and he’s reminded of just why he loves him. In every conversation, he falls in love at the beginning and end of every sentence so there is never a break. Louis’ energy is infectious and Harry just wants to sit and absorb it. Harry wonders if it is obvious, his feelings written all over his face, because he’s been told he wears his heart on his sleeve. But it can’t be if Louis keeps talking like his silence isn’t a confession. Louis can’t be that cruel to ignore his feelings. And even the word feelings seems to trivialise it. It’s not just an emotion, it’s bursting inside from him and he feels like it’s pulling at his skin, overflowing and it’s so hard to keep it all in. And he smiles and nods at the appropriate times even though he is sure he is guilty of looking into his eyes too long, too deeply.

“…all the fans, y’know what I mean? I’m just glad we were put together. It’s the best thing that has happened to me…”

Harry smiles at Louis and nods. It’d be so easy to tell him. _You are the best thing that has happened to me._ And maybe if it gets weird, Harry can just laugh it off. Except Harry knows that he can’t lie convincingly. Louis would know and then- things could go wrong. They might not, but they could, and that’s not good enough. Everyone knows that you can’t take words like that back. It always changes everything and Harry doesn’t want them to change (except that he does, he does and how do you try to change something for the better without breaking it?)

Louis gestures wildly, almost slapping Harry in the face and Harry grins as Louis launches into his next narrative.

It can only mean that Louis doesn’t know or he isn’t ready to know yet and Harry isn’t going to push just in case it’s the latter. Louis will know in the right time. They work the way they are, and they have always worked out whatever things have gotten in their way, haven’t they? It worries Harry that this is the in-between (before the end, before they are broken- it hurts to think about) and the waiting is torturous but he knows that he has to wait. Wait and hope.

In those moments, he’s aware of the way Louis is breathing, his chest rising and falling. Harry wants to put his hand there and feel how very alive Louis is. He can see the bow of Louis' lips as he talks and he wants to track those words and paste them in his memory forever.

 _I love you_ he thinks and it’s not random at all, but a constant current. It’s not a surprise but a gentle reminder.

“You okay?” Louis asks, poking Harry in the ribs a bit too hard.

Louis wriggles and Harry can feel his warmth all the way from his thigh to his shoulder where they are touching, their limbs all tangled together. Louis throws his arm over Harry’s chest and squeezes over his heart with playful possessiveness.

 _You can have it, you already do, please take care of it_ , Harry wants to say but he catches himself just in time (again, so close yet so far.)

“Hazza?”

“Yeah,” Harry says, swallowing hard, and he should look away but he can’t, not yet even though it’s like staring at the sun. Then his eyes water and he has to blink.

“Hey can you see that? It looks like a carrot!”

Louis is pointing to the sky, sun drenching his face and he’s smiling.

Sometimes Louis’ smile is so beautiful that Harry has to look away. But only for a moment because Harry doesn’t want to miss anything.


End file.
